Chapter Text
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Chapter One. Ned’s Idea.
“Do you think I’m making a mistake?” Ned Stark sat behind his desk in his private solar and across from him sat his wife, Catelyn. He had explained and laid out his thoughts to her and now, he needed hers as well.
He had thought long and hard on this and he felt like it was the best possible decision he could have come to. Sansa had been raised – as all of their children had – that someday, when she was at an age her parents thought appropriate, would marry the young man who had been chosen for her. It was a responsibility that all of the children had learned early. House Stark was an important house – not just in the North but in all of Westeros – and when part of a House such as theirs, marrying whoever they wanted – or not getting married at all – just wasn’t possible.
But Ned was prepared to change all of that. For Sansa.
Three years earlier, when Robert and his family had come to visit Winterfell, the King had had the suggestion of brokering a marriage between his eldest son, Joffrey, and Ned’s eldest daughter, Sansa. Ned had wanted to refuse as soon as Robert had spoken the words but the man was also his King and an old friend and he had had a hard time refusing him. As they would all find out when the incident with Lady happened. He could still see Sansa, crying and pleading with him to not do it, but Ned obeyed his King because that was what he was to do. And since that day, something inside of his daughter had died as well. The next day, Ned told Robert that their children would not be marrying and in a rare moment of sobriety, Robert had agreed. He thought out loud that perhaps someone from House Tyrell. Their daughter was a little older than Joffrey but that mattered little when Joffrey would be King someday.
Ned had known Sansa had been excited to marry and be Queen of Westeros someday so he wasn’t sure how she would take the news of her betrothal to Joffrey no longer standing. She had been in her bed chamber for the day. She hadn’t even come down to break her fast that morning and Ned admitted that with the business of running Winterfell and now with the King and Royal Family’s visit, if one of his children didn’t come for a meal, he would hardly notice and Catelyn would see as to why. But Ned had noted Sansa’s absence immediately and he knew exactly what the cause of it was. After his discussion with Robert, he had gone to his daughter’s door and stood there for a moment, his fist lifted to knock but unable to actually follow through on the action. His daughter was thirteen. He had fought men twice her age and size and yet, he was feeling a churning low in his belly at the idea of having to go inside and see her now. How would she receive him?
(Her tears and cries had been so much like Lyanna’s, the memory of his sister had flooded back into his brain since yesterday and hadn’t left him again yet.)
He was relieved when Sansa opened the door to him but as soon as he saw her, he wished that she had not. He knew she had been crying but to actually see her wet cheeks, flushed face and red eyes was another thing entirely. His stomach churned tighter.
“I have spoken with the King and you will no longer be obligated to marry Joffrey,” he informed her – delivering the news a bit bluntly, he supposed, but he didn’t know how else to give it.
He half-expected Sansa to raise a fit and make demands that he honor the betrothal but instead, she looked at him and Ned nearly took a step back from her eyes. He looked at her and saw… nothing. She looked at him as if she didn’t recognize him or perhaps like she wasn’t actually seeing him at all. It was completely blank.
“Thank you.” That was all she said about the matter. “May I return to my chamber?”
“Yes,” Ned said and then cleared his throat because he actually sounded nervous in front of his young daughter. “Yes, of course.”
Sansa dipped into a polite curtsy – which she did not have to do with him and she would know such a thing – and then taking a step backwards, back into the room, she closed to door once again and bolted the lock.
For the next three years, things did not change. Sansa hardly spoke to him and when she absolutely had to, it was with the utmost politeness – as if they were complete strangers rather than father and daughter. Anything he said to her, it was always “Yes, father” or “No, father.” Sansa had always been the most polite of all of his children. Since she was just three, her favorite thing to do was mirroring Catelyn in everything she did, always acting like a little lady.
Lady. Ned couldn’t even think the word without swallowing and having to immediately think of something else. This politeness of Sansa's was nothing but cold. She hadn’t forgiven him for that and Ned didn’t know if he could blame her if she ever did. Those direwolves had been special. This far south of the wall, discovered by his children, those direwolves were meant for his children. They were bonded together and Ned had killed Sansa’s. His other children and nephew still had theirs and Sansa was the only one without hers. Because of her father murdering it. No. Sansa could not be blamed if she never forgave Ned for what he had done to her.
For her sixteenth birthday, that was the day that Ned came up with his idea. She might never forgive him for what he had done but he could try his hardest to make her happy. He didn’t know Sansa very well. It pained him to admit that about his own child but what he did know, Sansa loved the idea of love. Now that she was sixteen, a betrothal would have to be made for her but Ned could let her choose her own husband. He could let her choose a man who she could truly love. That would make her happy.
He looked to his wife now and Catelyn remained quiet, clearly thinking it through. She knew their daughter better than anyone and Catelyn was who Sansa had always looked up to. But not even Catelyn talking with Sansa about it over the past three years led to Sansa forgiving her father. Whatever fragile bond had been between the two had been murdered the same day as her direwolf and Ned didn’t know if anything would ever be able to fix it but this was at least an idea after years of having none.
“Would we, perhaps, guide her towards a more desirable House while still letting her make the final decision?” Catelyn wondered.
Ned quickly shook his head. “If she wants to marry one of the stable boys, we let her.”
Catelyn opened her mouth – probably from the shock of his words. “Ned… Sansa is… her marriage is too important to our House-”
“She will marry whoever she wants,” he cut her off. “And if she doesn’t want to get married, that will be her decision as well.”
Catelyn fell quiet again, her husband’s words settling in her mind and her mind truly thinking of what this all meant. She had been married to this man long enough to know that looking at him now from across the desk, she knew that Ned was deadly serious about this and even if she wanted to argue, it wouldn’t matter. And the thing was, she didn’t know if wanted to argue with him. She understood why Ned would do something like this and she couldn’t blame him. It had been a very long three years for Ned. And she didn’t even know that, once he told Sansa about this, that Sansa would forgive him still.
She took a deep breath. “Let’s at least write to the Houses in the North first to ask about their sons before we work our way down to the stable boys.”
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